cause i'm only birds & bees
by merveilles
Summary: he's always one step behind her, and he thinks he always might be (and she can't find her footing without his pace). —victoireteddy, next gen.


he's always one step behind her, and he thinks he always might be (and she can't find her footing without his pace). —victoireteddy, next gen.

**a/n**: yeah, no. this was supposed to like, have a coherent ending but once again, i ran out of fuel. so i'm going to label this incomplete and see if i can pick up the pace another day... tho does it stand okay on its own? help idk? anymore how do ?write? D:::

* * *

_cause i'm only birds & bees_

vivid and in your prime,  
you will leave me behind.

—the smiths

/

He can't say he's particularly surprised when he finds out Victoire has been made a prefect, considering how much of a sway she has over most students. The unadulterated elation that still seems to control her expressions on the train towards hogwarts amuses him greatly, but it also upsets him, just a little. Because she's brilliant, isn't she? All bright and brilliant and _fucking beautiful. _Whilst he, tall, awkward and a bit of a fool, is anything but.

And he sits back and watches as she gushes with one of her gryffindor friends, fire in her eyes and animated movements, wondering if he'll always be one step behind her.

.

Teddy is entering his final year; he'll be most sad to leave behind the warm yellows and the lush comforts of the hufflepuff common room, no doubt. Out of the entire castle, his common room has always been one of his favourite spots (and not _just _because there's always plenty of delicious snacks lying around) because he's spent some of his best days inside these walls, surrounded by the people who understand him best.

No longer the son of two heroes who fought in the battle of hogwarts, or a weird guy who can change his appearance—he's just Teddy. They get that. On his first day they welcomed him into their house without questions or hushed whispers and there's only one other person who's ever treated him like that before.

It was like home. He grew into his house. In heart and soul; he's cried in that common room (though he loathes to admit it), he's laughed and stressed and broken a few tables, too. But hufflepuff is a part of him, just like Victoire is a part of him. Both accepting and encouraging and a beacon of hope and light, and Teddy could have fucking cried at how relieved he was after being sorted into a house that represented everything he admired in Victoire.

And when she arrived, just two years later, he had honestly, truly believed she'd be entering the gorgeous hues of yellow. Would be joining him in late-night snacking and reading beneath the harsh light of the moon. But no. Her petite little frame had sat upon that stool and for a tense few seconds, he'd thought—shit, what if she's in slytherin?

"_Gryffindor!_" it had roared and Teddy had found his heart sinking despite the good news.

Victoire had hopped off the stool to a round of deafening applause and cheering from the red and gold house, his brown eyes following her all the way to her seat, frowning. Ever since then, he'd learned to accept that Victoire wasn't a hufflepuff, and had come to realise that perhaps she never was. As the years came and went, Victoire seemed to positively scream gryffindor—in her mannerisms, sometimes brash, usually loud, and also in the way she was _constantly _challenging his authority. He was her senior and he should have had her respect, but she was mischievous and evasive and she loved to see him squirm.

Teddy couldn't count the amount of detentions that girls had. But even so, she still remains strict and fair; she's a prefect because her judgement is always objective when it counts and although, yeah, she can be a bit of a pain in the arse, she's also intelligent and proud. Victoire has no trouble docking points if somebodies done something wrong.

And he's happy for her. Happy for how far she's come and how brave she can be. But he's also afraid that with each step she takes, she becomes further and further from his reach. It's silly to think it stemmed from her being placed in a different house, because before that, he'd left _her _behind.

Teddy still remembers the letters he'd receive from her during that time: _i'm so bored! i can't believe you're there and i'm here, ted. and merlin, dominique and louis are driving me insane! who'd have thought a toddler could scream so much!? i think lou misses you, teddy (shh, i think i do too!) please, please come home soon or i might just cry._

She hasn't told him she misses him in so long, he figures he might have just made it up.

.

"Hey—psst, Ted."

A slender finger pokes him in the ribs and Teddy stirs, mouth open, eyes fluttering. The world seems to shift and he begins to recognize the blurs as shelves, and one big, irritated one as his friend, Marco Lovett. Teddy licks his dry lips and lethargically sits up, yawning, and resting his tired head in one hand.

He blinks a few times before fixing Marco with a blank stare. "Mmm?"

Marco rolls his bright eyes. "I wasn't going to wake you," he explains in a whisper, sending a quick glance towards the strict librarian, "as I know you've been staying up late to study but... you started snoring. And dribbling. It was gross."

"Gee, thanks," Teddy mumbles, shifting. He rubs at his weary, exhausted eyes and peers down at his parchment, reminded that he's barely even _touched _on his potions essay when he hears a familiar giggle just a few meters away. Marco frowns, obviously annoyed by the disturbance, and twists right around in his chair as the owner of the giggle exits an aisle with a few other girls.

Teddy hasn't spoken to her since going to congratulate her on the train. That was almost a month ago, now, and he can't help but place most of the blame on her because surely, being a prefect can't be _that_time consuming, can it? Marco was one before he became head boy, and he usually had enough time to hang out with Teddy or study with him. So what was her excuse?

In spite of his thoughts, however, his eyes linger on her a little too long, and she notices him eventually. Her golden hair is up in one of those faux-messy buns which Teddy has seen all the girls sporting lately—something about the "just got out of bed look but actually not because we spent hours on this" look that seems popular at the moment. Except, unlike all those other girls, he kind of really likes it on Victoire.

Of course he would though, because he's a soppy loser.

She stops walking and tells her friends to go on. They give him a bland look and then walk off and Teddy refrains from rolling his eyes. Her friends have always had some stigma against him, though he has no idea _why._When he questioned Victoire about it she was vague and informative, so he decided to let it go. It still bothers him though.

Teddy turns to Marco and he already seems to know as he simply waves his hand dismissively, turning back to his own essay. Teddy smiles and gets up, walking towards her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. They meet mid-way and she takes the lead, turning around and directing them down an aisle so the librarian won't bite their heads off.

Victoire stops near the herbology section and pivots on her heel—he finds it kind of cute how she's almost a head and a bit shorter than him. Her frame so slight and delicate, if he didn't know any better, he might assume she was simply made from glass. But that's bullshit because he's never met anyone so firm and sure of themselves like Victoire Weasley. She's a mighty flame, indeed (and one _hell _of a chaser, too).

"Hi," he breaks the silence first, smiling a little awkwardly. After years of friendship, and even being two years older, he's still ashamed to admit she brings out the shy in him.

"I'm sorry," she blurts unexpectedly. Away from her house and her gaggle of friends, she tends to come undone like this. Teddy shakes his head, brown hair falling in his eyes. Victoire looks up, uncertain. "Being a prefect is awesome and all but it's so tiring, Ted. And god, I hadn't wanted to bother you, either, since you're now a big, intimidating seventh year." she goes silent and he almost feels his heart stop until she grins playfully.

This is the Victoire he remembers, the one he fell in love with—the girl who catches his hand when _he _falls behind. "Shut up, Vic," he grins back. "There's no need to apologize for something so insignificant. I'm proud of you... though, does this mean you've stopped getting detentions?" he leans up against the shelf and watches as she laughs, light and happy, his chest rising and falling in sync with it.

She pushes back a strand of hair and nods. "I... I've come close to, though." and fuck, that sly smile has his heart raging. He can't even stop the change his hair takes on as he hurriedly tries to cool his cheeks down. Victoire notices though and says, "Are you _blushing, _Teddy Lupin?"

"No!" he snaps, cursing his stupid hair and stupid heart and the stupid stupid heat to his cheeks. Luckily he's learned in his years to control his metamorphmagus abilities now, and sends his hair back to its usual boring shade of brown. Victoire laughs again, though this time her cheeks are flushed and he stares at her gryffindor badge, the prefect badge shining above it, wishing these moments weren't so far and few between.

Victoire stops laughing and checks her watch, eyes flaring. "Merlin, it's already quarter past five—I'm going to be late to quidditch practice if I don't move my backside," she smoothes down her robes and shoots Teddy a warm look, tiny hand coming to rest on his forearm, "See you around?" but before he can answer the contact is already lost and she's taking steps away and all Teddy can do is watch, shoulders sagging and stomach a little sick.

.

It's the first quidditch match of the year. Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw. Both houses with notable players who have proven time and time again that they're capable of winning the quidditch cup, though last year (and oh had Teddy held it against her) hufflepuff had taken home the glory. This year, though, she was determined to win it, if only to shove it back in his face. Not that Teddy cared much. He'd never been fond of quiddich.

Rather than be hoisted in the air by a tiny broomstick shoved between his legs and pressing into his bits, he'd rather spend his time holed up in the common room reading a book, or playing wizard chess or snap or something equally as engaging. But when she was playing he could put aside his hobbies to watch her. Because boy was it something.

Victoire, too, hadn't been interested in quidditch before. Back when she'd first arrived, she'd stressed her complete alarm of the sport simply because she _could not stand heights. _Teddy used to tease her that one day she'd be a quidditch star. He might as well be a seer considering how that one came so ironically true. She overcame her "fear" of heights after a dare in her third year. The dare was simple: plant a stink bomb near Filches room.

The stake? To ride a broom if she was caught.

Unfortunately for Victoire Weasley, Filch had been particularly alert that evening and had caught her by the skin of her teeth (or, as he'd heard, had grabbed her by the hood and swung her back). Some might call it a little aged how he'd done it, but the fact still remained—Victoire had to ride a broom.

Some now praise the people who'd come up with that dare, as Victoire truly was something else in the air. Like she was destined to ride a broom, zooming through the air, her locks streaming out behind her like a golden waterfall, eyes sharp and determined. She wasn't the seeker, but she was as popular as.

Teddy watches with the same amount of awe as he always has. Gryffindor are fifteen up within the first five minutes, due to their impeccable teamwork and 'fighting spirit' (he prefers to call it not-so-subtle-arrogance). He keeps a keen eye on Victoire. Marco is stood to his left, clad in a hufflepuff scarf wrapped tight around his neck, and has his ancient runes book out. Teddy had once asked him why he bothered coming if he didn't have any interest in the game and Marco had said simply: "so you don't look like a complete love-sick loner", which was good enough reason for Teddy.

As the second half kicks off with Gryffindor well within the hundred ranges, Teddy can't seem to spot Victoire.

And then he sees it.

Her body goes spiralling to the ground—faster than his eyes can keep up and his heart is manic in his ears. He's grabbing Marco's arm for some reason, his eyes bulging out of his head, mouth open and a scream falling from his lips, garbled, the syllables of her name an incoherent mess over the shouts from everyone else.

Teddy catches one of their professors pointing his wand at her tiny little body and, _thank fucking christ, _she doesn't hit the ground and break into a thousand tiny pieces of Victoire-mess. Teddy almost faints with relief, his grip on Marco's arm slackening. Although she hasn't snapped in two, her body seems to be bent into an uncomfortable shape, limbs sprawled awkwardly and hair obscuring the top half of her face.

Somebody with a pair of binoculars shouts a, "She's bleeding!"

And Teddy bolts.

.

The game has been stopped as he hears people shouting and he can already tell people will be out with a stretcher soon. Teddy is running down the wooden stairs, breath coming out in ragged beats and palms sweaty, his wand in his hand (he can't even remember when he'd pulled it out) and mind whirling. This situation is weirdly reminiscent of one his godfather, Harry, had once told him when he was just a wee lad.

Harry had been in his third year and had been swarmed by dementors, stunting him and causing him to fall over fifty feet, though Dumbledore had slowed his fall, saving him. Victoire hadn't fallen from fifty feet but nevertheless, she was still bleeding and he was terrified.

Teddy floods onto the pitch as several other people on brooms land around him—a boy in his own year, the gryffindor captain, Fredrick Goldstein, has already gotten to her fallen body and Teddy surges with irrational jealousy. It could be anyone and he'd still jealous, he supposes, but he's even more so because it's Goldstein who is handsome and broad and undeniably one of the most sought after boys in school.

And he's bending down, pushing back the strands of blood-soaked hair covering Victoire's sickly pale complexion and Teddy's still not reached her. He slows down as professors make it to the pitch, too, and madam hooch, in her old age, yet still a commendable referee, blows on her whistle, signalling a real time-out.

Teddy halts entirely, catching his breath, lowering his wand and pushing down the fierce need to be by her side. His gaze stays on her as Goldstein picks up his fallen soldier, bridal style, and carries her off pitch, his team following dutifully behind him. Teddy watches for another couple of seconds before he sighs and turns on his heel.

Marco is waiting several steps away with his coat and bag. Teddy smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes.

Marco holds out his stuff and doesn't make a snide remark, which Teddy is glad for, as he suddenly feels like the weight of the world has come falling down on his shoulders, crushing and crippling in its intensity. And besides—he has a transifiguration essay to complete.

.

He's anxious, incredibly so. And it's grinding on Marco last nerve. Marco, Teddy, Lisa Whitby and Jason Yamazaki are sat in the common room, low lighting spilling across their textbooks and notes, a peaceful fire burning feet from them, as idle chatter lulls around them. This wouldn't be any different from any other time they've studied or hung out, except this time Teddy won't stop fidgeting, and Marco wants to slap his hands away from the drawstrings on his tracksuit bottoms _so badly. _

But he doesn't because he understands why Teddy is being such fruitcake. He's worried.

Lisa hasn't got the heart to tell him to stop it either, so she remains resolutely reading her book. Jason on the hand isn't so inclined to spare people's feelings as he finally snaps shut a quidditch book and stares at Teddy until the boy stops. "Would you do us all a favour and just go fucking visit her already?" he says in a thick, heavy tone. His expression barely changes from the same apathetic one he usually sports.

Teddy groans. "I _can't._"

Lisa buries her head further in her book, whilst Marco gives up entirely, sighing, "If she had any romantic feelings for Goldstein, I'm sure you'd know about it, Ted. She's not exactly one for subtlety."

"Besides," Jason adds, "I don't think she's really his type."

Teddy frowns, confused. "Huh? Why?"

Marco and Lisa share a look. "Fredrick... he's uh," Lisa trails off, blushing. Her dark curls fall into her face as she tries to cover her blatant embarrassment—Marco knows she's fancied him for years.

"Gay." Jason supplies bluntly.

Teddy almost chokes on his spit, pitching forwards. "Gay?!" he exclaims a little _too _loudly, causing a few heads to turn in their direction. Lisa hushes him quickly, sending apologetic glances around the room. Teddy can't quite believe it. He's been in a few of Goldstein's classes for years and has never noticed that. "B-but I never noticed it?" he stumbles, still baffled.

"That's because you only have eyes for Victoire," Marco replies sarcastically.

"And you're pretty damn ignorant, too," Jason smirks.

Lisa pokes her head from behind her book and nods, smiling a little.

"_Huh,_" Teddy repeats, confusion replaced by pleasant surprise. He wouldn't say he's _ignorant _as such, as he can be quite perceptive and observing when he wants to be, but he _can _be oblivious sometimes. He likes drawing out of reality, escaping into a book, or a fantasy, or whatever, and thus veiling his vision upon a lot of things.

"You can thank us later," Marco teases, shoving Teddy. "But right now, you should go see her."

Teddy smiles, pulling himself from his reverie, and stands up, dusting himself down. "I won't be long," he says. Lisa smiles and waves, Marco motions with his hand dismissively and Jason grunts about "getting him a pumpkin pasty from the kitchens on his way back". With that, Teddy rushes out the common room, a giddy smile plastered across his face and his hair turning a bright shade of red.

_i'm sorry i'm late vic._

.

He's only let in for fifteen minutes because the matron adores him, and is told to be quiet as patients are asleep. Victoire, luckily, is awake and is staring down at a textbook, a crease in her fair eyebrows that he instantly recognizes as frustration. He figures she's attempting to read one of her OWL subject textbooks and starts to walk towards her bed, counting his steps in lieu with his beating heart.

So absorbed, she barely notices his approach. Teddy chews down the dumb grin on his face as he plops into a plastic seat by her cot, making her jump, textbook flying out of her hands. Victoire gapes at him, hand on heart (the other in a cast), as she breathes heavily, round, cerulean eyes wide. The grin falls back into place at the expression across her face—he just can't help it.

Victoire composes herself and huffs indignantly, picking her book back up and pretending he doesn't exist. Teddy feigns hurt, waxing poetic about how his poor heart aches over her ignoring him. It seems to work as a tiny smile threatens to break out. He nudges her arm and she tries to cross her arms, though as she's got a cast on, the overall affect is more amusing than it is serious. Teddy cracks a chuckle and Victoire sighs in defeat.

She turns to him finally and her expression is laden with questions.

"I've been here for three days..." she whispers.

Teddy swallows thickly. "I'm sorry, Victoire," and he really means it. He's sorry he's so easily wound up; he's sorry he's so selfish and so untrusting and such a damn awful friend. "Are you okay?"

Victoire can obviously see how sincere he really is as she quickly avoids his gaze and mumbles, "I can't eat pudding—of course I'm not okay."

He bites back a snort and relaxes. "You should have said, I would have snuck into the kitchens and smuggled you some," he says, thinking about how Jason always sends him on those trips because he's such a lazy turd.

"I might have if you'd visited earlier," and she finally meets his eyes, something raw and painful behind the usually guarded orbs. "Did you... did you see me fall? I was so scared I'd die, Ted. Y'know that saying 'your life flashes before you eyes'?" he nods, "well it happened. I saw it _all. _Like that time we climbed the tree outside uncle George's house and you fell and broke your collar bone, and remember—at Christmas, when uncle Ron set the cake on fire and—and it was so bad so we made our own that night whilst everyone was asleep. _Fuck_, Teddy, I was so scared." there are tears tracking down her cheeks by this point. They started somewhere between his broken collar bone and a burned cake.

"I know," he murmurs even though he hasn't the faintest. He's never fallen from a height so high, but he can see how hard she's tried to keep it all in, and it stings how he's left her when she needed him most. And he had the gall to accuse her of leaving him. _you fucking fool, ted. _He pulls the chair in closer and rests his elbow on the bed, entwining their fingers, as she trembles and attempts to keep anymore tears from falling.

Victoire shakes her head and sniffles. "I'm so stupid," she laughs, though there's no humour behind it. "I've been so busy that I forgot all about you. And when I was up on that broom, I saw you below cheering for me and I froze, 'cause I miss you a lot, and we barely speak any more. I can't even remember when we drifted but it felt like eons ago, Ted. And then that bludger came of nowhere and smacked me on the head. It was crazy."

_i miss you a lot_

_ted_

"Don't be silly," he smiles, grazing her knuckles with his fingers. "People sometimes need to drift to come back together. It's kind of like... the sea and the tide. You feel me?"

She laughs quietly, tears still fresh on her flushed cheeks. "I feel you."

"Good."

He gets kicked out not long after, but promises they'll see each other soon.


End file.
